by S. L. Eaves
“You can?” Crina asks, dumbfounded and taken aback by the footage.
Marcus turns back to Brixton. “You said there were multiple vampires working with you? Did she take them all out?”
Brixton nods, “Stake through the heart. She came prepared.”
After letting that sink in for a minute, she adds, “I reached out to a few that I could find. It’s not easy tracking you guys down. You see the lengths I went to tonight. I found a few vampires and brought them on board with the same proposition. And Lori, well, guess she figured if they were working with me they were part of the problem. Maybe DIA brainwashed her, as judging by your reaction this isn’t normal behavior. But let me be clear—she took them out first chance she got. She killed three of your own. I can send you a copy of that footage if you want; I know the phone is poor quality, but I’m hoping by delivering the footage in person the gravity of the situation, and of my true intent, is not lost on you. I don’t need another enemy.”
Brixton pauses briefly to judge their reactions, then continues with her rehearsed spiel.
“From what I’ve heard, DIA flipped her, has had her hunting down vampires for them. Defense agency is a load of horseshit; their mission, hell, their very existence stems from hunting paranormal creatures; beings they consider a threat to humanity. When I aligned with vampires, that’s when they started coming after me. Not before. Now I need help keeping DIA off my back. And Lori, well, she’s your friend, right? A member of your clan—if I’m using the right term? Maybe you can reason with her, get her to back down.”
Marcus and Crina’s expressions say they don’t like what they’re hearing, but they aren’t dismissing Brixton’s claims either. After a long silence, Marcus is the first to speak.
“If what you say is true, then we’ll consider your proposal. But we have to do some recon on our end, make sure your story holds up.”
“That’s fair.” She gives a dismissive shrug.
“And that’s all you want from us? A security detail? I find that hard to believe.” Crina places her hands on hips, looking skeptical, but also unnerved by what she’s just heard.
“Well, you got me there. That’s not all of it. I want to be a vampire. So turning me would be part of the deal. I want to benefit from this technology, too.”
“You want to be immortal.” Marcus gives a thin-lipped grin as if to suppress the urge to laugh.
“And without the restrictions your kind faces…I want to walk in the daylight, I want the power, and I don’t want to be bothered with robbing blood banks or draining some bottom-feeder in an alley for dinner. You bring me into your world and I’ll bring you into mine. That’s the deal.”
“We’ll need some time to think on this. How do we contact you?”
As if expecting this response, Brixton pulls a flip phone from her pocket and tosses it to Marcus.
“My number’s programmed in. When you’re ready to talk, just call. That werewolf is a product of genetic engineering. Just one little example of what my team is able to create.”
Brixton removes a vial from her jacket pocket.
“So is this.” She holds it up. “I don’t know if your kind can be poisoned but I know you don’t trust me.” She twists off the lid and takes a sip. “Don’t have the palette for it, but you tell me if it tastes like real blood to you.” She caps the vial and tosses it to Crina.
“You gotta ask yourselves—why would I go to the trouble of developing this if I was trying to eliminate vampires? It doesn’t add up. Try it. You like it, there’s more where that came from.”
With that, she activates the black box and disappears into the night.
“Well, that is not your average human.” Crina studies the blood vial suspiciously.
***
Owen tries not to jump as Brixton suddenly appears outside the van.
“Well, I see you’re still alive; that’s a good sign,” he smiles, leaning over the passenger seat to unlock the door for Brixton.
“How’d it go?” He looks around as if expecting vampires to have followed her, then starts the van and hurriedly steers it out of the park.
“Owen, sometimes I even surprise myself. They bought the whole bit about Lori and you should have seen their faces when I told them about the daylight suits and the blood. It may take a little while for them to buy in entirely, but I think we’ll have ourselves some new allies in the near future.”
***
Back at the mansion Crina and Marcus pace the War Room, bringing Jiro up to speed.
“I can’t believe it. I mean the technology I believe; it’s the direction we’re heading. They’re a few years ahead of the curve. Our curve, I mean. And more than a few I guess, but what you’re describing is feasible if you have the right minds and resources collectively working on innovations like these.” Jiro holds up the vial, examining it in the light. “And the financing, of course.”
He lowers the vial and looks at Marcus. “Daylight suits—sure; synthetic blood that doesn’t taste sour—doubtful but possible; Lori going all vampire hunter—that’s an even harder sell. I don’t buy it, not her.”
“This Brixton character, she risked her life coming to us. She asked us to talk some sense into Lori; she doesn’t want her and the DIA destroying everything she’s working on…Which includes inventions that could be very beneficial to us. Lori has admitted she’s working with the American government. She admitted to invading Brixton’s compound…” Marcus sounds more convinced of her guilt by the minute.
“And this business with Vega…we’ve never trusted him,” Crina adds. “We just sent a plane full of vampires to assist Vega in taking down Brixton. And there she was in front of us, laying her cards on the table. Vega didn’t even bother to make the trip.”
“I think Lori—and Quinn, for that matter—just feel they owe Vega for helping them.” Jiro tries to be the voice of reason. “She and Catch came back fuming after their encounter with Vega and his men a few years back. He was never one of her favorite people.”
“True,” Crina sighs. “Brixton has video evidence to back her claims though.”
“Of?” Jiro sets down the vial.
“Lori staking a vampire during the DIA’s attack on…what are they called again? Trion?”
“Seriously? You’re certain it was her?”
“It was pretty clear,” Marcus nods.
“What do you think, Marcus? Who do we believe?” Crina looks from him to Jiro, clearly torn.
Marcus picks up the vial from Jiro’s desk.
“Let’s see if her peace offering is the real deal first.” He pops open the lid, sniffs inside, and takes a swig.
After a moment, he smiles.
“I’ll be damned. That’s good. That’s really good.”
“It’s not just a vial of human blood she’s trying to peddle as a synthetic match?” Crina’s her usual brand of cynical.
Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Tastes a little off; something’s not organic about it. But it’s close to human blood. In two hundred years, it’s the closest substitute I’ve ever come across.”
He hands it to Crina. “Take a taste, then leave enough for Jiro to test. Jiro, can you deconstruct this? Break it down into something we can replicate?”
Jiro watches as Crina tries it. Raises her eyebrows. “Damn.”
She hands Jiro the vial.
“Not without the proper lab equipment. And chemistry isn’t my strong suit…” He tastes a sample.
“Yeah, this is impressive, indeed. I’d need the kind of resources Brixton has to make it in–house. Maybe we can buy the formula from her? That would be a big help.”
Marcus nods, “I bet she’d be willing to negotiate that.”
“You sound like you’ve made up your mind.” Crina stops pacing, locks eyes with Marcus.
“I’m the last one to ever side with a human, let alone want to work with one. But even I have to admit, her side of the story makes a lot of sense.
&
nbsp; “We know Lori has killed vampires before. Vampires that were proven traitors, sure, but even Catch was surprised how quick she was to stake Franco when they caught up with him. I remember him being unnerved by it, her carrying a stake around. It’s abhorrent that a vampire would even consider such a thing.”
Marcus runs his hands through his jet-black hair, adjusts his short ponytail. He looks as if he’s choosing his words carefully and when he speaks his voice does not waiver.
“What I don’t understand is why Vega, a Pureblood, would help her. I might not care for him, but I still respect him as an elder. And they have zero tolerance for that behavior.”
“There is something more at play here.” Crina picks up the black box and runs her fingers across its surface. “I’m beginning to feel as though Lori is using us. Perhaps unintentionally, because I never thought of her as being much of a manipulator or a schemer; however, I am beginning to think the DIA is using her, has turned her somehow, and she’s so convinced Trion is evil she’s even got Vega onboard. He would see through her lies otherwise.
“Then there’s the premonitions thing. Maybe she’s seen something at Trion that has her scared and she’s willing to go to great lengths to eliminate it. There are too many unanswered questions.
“We only know what we’ve been told. We’re on the outside looking in right now. I want to get my hands dirty and see how things play out. Even if that means temporarily aligning with Vega or Brixton to see what they’re really after.”
Marcus nods in agreement. “Agreed. And my vote goes to Brixton. She took a risk coming to us, and what she’s offering—it’s difficult to turn down. I say we make a deal, a business arrangement, as she put it. By aligning with Brixton, we will be able to walk right into her headquarters and see firsthand what is going on inside those walls.
“And access to her technology will augment our ability to survive in this world.”
“We do that, though, and it won’t go over well with Vega and the others. How do we justify the alliance to them? Tell them it’s a sham to get inside?”
Marcus shakes his head. “Simple. We declare Lori a traitor. We expose her to the others, show them the video, and prove she’s been lying to us. Vega and his followers, including Quinn, won’t be able to justify attacking Trion when their source of intel is revealed to be killing their own. It will at the very least buy us time to figure things out.”
“It will mean certain death for Lori, though,” Jiro intervenes. “You’re sentencing her to burn.”
Marcus tries to hide his pleasure, purses his lips in thought. When he looks to Crina, she’s starring down numbly at Jiro’s desk, refusing to make eye contact.
“Crina, I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help…”
Chapter 15
“Run!”
I awake with a start, fingers gripping the armrest. The plane shakes and skids across the runway.
“Tough to sleep through.” Dade gives a nervous laugh, looking a little paler than usual.
“Umm…yeah.”
I look around. It’s dark except for the dim, tiny overhead lights. Richly appointed leather lounge chairs line the body of the jet, facing one another so we aren’t staring at the back of each other’s heads for the duration of the flight.
Quinn is curled up on a chair in the back; Xan is sitting across from me doing something on his tablet, headphones in. His head bobs along to the music, oblivious to the world around him. Dade lifts the visor and peers out the window anxiously.
“We here?” I ask him.
“Looks that way…Finally. I hate flying.”
I think about the voice in my head. Was it a warning from Catch? If it accompanied a vision, I sure didn’t remember it once I regained consciousness. I’m overcome with a feeling of dread that I can’t shake. Run? To where? From what? Dammit, Catch.
We taxi on the runway. It’s a private airstrip somewhere in northern California. Vega had supplied the flight path and coordinates to the pilot, a human we pay handsomely for his services.
“Better wake your girlfriend.” I nudge Dade away from the window.
Xan removes his headphones when he feels the plane stop.
“That was fast.”
Dade shoots him an angry glare.
An hour later we are cruising through the streets of San Francisco. As promised, Vega has a car waiting for us. A black nondescript sedan and a driver who wears his cap down low over his eyes and takes our bags without a word.
We ride along the edge of the city, passing one pier after another, some well-lit, others almost indiscernible against their dark watery backdrop. I see a couple boats, large enough to be yachts. I lower the window to sniff the salty air.
Quinn makes a face. “Put your window up, it reeks of dead fish.”
The car drops us off at a three-story Edwardian-style house circa early 1900s. It is immaculately preserved and elaborate window dressings distract from the black-out panes that would otherwise be obvious to passersby.
“I dunno how he does it,” Quinn says, clearly impressed.
“Seriously, I need the name of his realtor.” I swing a small duffel over my back and proceed up the steps to the front door.
Rex opens it before I have a chance to knock.
“Welcome! And I see you’ve brought reinforcements. Come on in.” He swings the door wide, gesturing for us to enter.
“Rex, this is Xan and Dade.” I motion to the boys as we pass through the doorway.
“Thanks for making the trip.” He shakes their hands and points to the stairs. “Plenty of guest rooms, take your pick.”
I watch as Quinn leads the guys up the steps.
“Vega around?”
“Yep; in his office, last I checked. Said to notify him once Marcus arrived. Take it he wasn’t agreeable to joining forces?”
I shrug, “He was hesitant, but I think he’ll come around. He stayed back to take care of a werewolf problem. I expect he’ll arrive tomorrow night along with Crina, another good fighter. Scary good.”
“Excellent, strength in numbers. That wolf—the one that attacked the shopping center in London? It’s getting a fair amount of news coverage across the pond, but reporters are vague about the culprit. Latest headline is claiming rabid dog.”
“Rabid dog, sheesh. Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Why don’t you get settled; I’ll tell Vega you’ve arrived.”
“Sounds good.” I head for the steps, flashing Rex a smile. “Which room is yours?”
A couple hours later we’re gathered in a lounge on the top floor of the house. Introductions have been made and we’ve congregated around the television to watch coverage of the attack and mock the absurd media reports as they try to rationalize bystanders’ cell phone footage, which clearly shows a massive wolf tearing apart the mall. Often standing upright, then dropping to all fours to charge at some poor fleeing human.
“Have you been in touch with the DIA? Do you know if they are planning an operation?” Vega is pushing buttons on a wafer-thin touch screen laptop.
“I have not and no; to my knowledge, they’re in a holding pattern, waiting to see what we do. I suspect they don’t want to risk losing more men. I’m sure the catastrophe at the compound the other night will have them knee-deep in paper work, and likely scrambling for a plan C.”
“Plan C?” Xan asks.
“Well, I figure we’re plan B.” I turn to Vega. “I know you came down here to find an alternative to assaulting the compound. And I’m in full agreement. I don’t want to go back there, not without a solid plan of attack.”
“But?” He sees my wheels turning.
“With my clan coming aboard, we’ll have enough manpower to take control of the compound. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Marcus is a powerful vampire and you’re a Pureblood. Throw a gang of battle-tested vamps into the mix. Way I see it, Brixton’s men don’t stand a chance.”
“So you think coming here was a mistake?” Vega considers.
“No, I think it’s a good place to regroup and form a plan. But if you guys were here already, rather than retrace our steps we should form new ones.”
Vega concedes, nodding, “Perhaps with the addition of Marcus and the others it would make more sense to go after the heart of their operations. You have a point.”
“All right, then; mind if I take a look at your blueprints?”
He nods, exits, and returns seconds later with a tablet. I study the schematics. The floor plans they swiped off Trion’s computers are more detailed than what the DIA had to work with. I also spot some noticeable differences, like the server rooms being on the other end. That fucker Owen went to a lot of trouble to trap us.
“They’ll be on to the tunnel. If we can disable the sensors on the roof, we could try going in through there.”
“How many guards does she have?”
“I’d estimate fifteen to twenty at most, maybe more like a dozen, but I don’t want to miscalculate them. Again.”
“That all?” Rex says, unimpressed.
“Yeah…” My voice trails. “It was about twice as many as we planned for. Since Owen was feeding us false intel, I’m not confident anything I know about the compound is accurate. Our eyes on the outside accounted for two on patrol. Plus another three or four stationed at the main entrance where the garage is. The garage houses a loading dock for their shipments and has men there at all times.
“Inside, we faced at least seven and only took out one or two…it’s less about quantity and more about skill. They have advanced weapons and protective gear, they are highly trained, and they moved tactically…these guys are pros.”
“You get a look inside any of the labs?” Quinn points to a few of the rooms on the floor plan.
“I was in one,” I nod, pointing to it on the screen. “We figure they have anywhere between ten and twenty scientists and doctors on staff. If what I know is true, they aren’t there voluntarily. We should not consider them hostile targets.”